


A Lapse In Judgement and The Miles Yet To Go

by Nocturnal_Daydreams



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Alfredo only mentioned, F/M, Gen, References to Drugs, Relapse, Relapse fic, taking care of sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnal_Daydreams/pseuds/Nocturnal_Daydreams
Summary: Joan waits for Sherlock to come home but oh, how far he has fallenWritten on S3 series finale, relapse fic. AU Sherlock beats the dude but not half to death.





	

Dawn is breaking when Sherlock arrives back and Joan’s stayed up the whole night. She’s been watching out the top window of her bedroom since 9pm before that she’d been watching the door from the kitchen. She’d made a pot of tea but only a cup and a half had been touched, the rest had colded through the night.

Her eyes had drifted to the beautiful sunrise thinking that it may be the only beautiful thing she’ll know in days and when she looks to the ground there is a stumbling body a block or two over and she knows its him. While she instantly knows what hes done she doesn’t know whether to feel happy or sad. At least he wasn’t in danger, at least he’d not pulled what he did with Moran. At least he was alive.

She sends a text to Bell (who could pass on the message), Mycroft, Alfonso, Mrs Hudson and a burner phone Jamie had got the moment went missing. The last one was reluctant but her eyes and ears would find out eventually and putting either of them in danger was the last thing Joan wanted. The first thing she wanted was to cry but she wouldnt do that.

He was across the street when she finally got out her chair and went downstairs. She stood at the door for about a minute wondering if he’d knock. Then she heard a thud and she flung the door open. He’d fell forward up the first stair and the shock left him like a child trying to process what happened. His nose started to bleed and there was a smear of blood on the stair where he obviously hit it.  
It took him a second to see Joan and he looked up at her with big teary eyes and said, “I fell, Joan. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She ran down the stairs straight to him and bent to look over everything then noticed she was close to the step so sat on it. Holding his face with one hand and inspecting the damage she took off her black cardigan, taking her hand off him for a second, she dabbed away as she knew how and looked over each part of his face then the rest of him with a straight face then smiled softly.

“Bit of dirt, blood and bruising. Nothing broken.”

“Besides maybe the man.” Sherlock mumbled angrily.

Her face straightened, “Maybe. But I can fix the man. Any of the bones of broken, I’d have to take you to hospital… You scared us Sherlock.”

He was about to talk when he noticed her shiver. She saw too and guided them both inside, holding his arm around her shoulder. Then she placed him on the couch.

“I failed, Joan. I’m just normal. I can't control myself as I want. I can’t protect me so I definitely can’t protect you. How is it scarier than this?” He’s crying but his voice doesn’t show it.

“You could have died, Sherlock!” He looks at her in stun and that persuades her to be quieter, “He was a maniac with a gun Sherlock. When we found him you were long gone. No one knew where you were. There’s more to knowing your whereabouts as a sober companion. These ‘old friends’ are desperate and he or anyone else could have killed you. I found you here, concious. In one piece. Whatever force there is out there blessed me into not finding my best friend dead. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

He looks confused, “But I ran away before, you were fine.”

“Fine?! I was anything but fine. Ask Bell. But I pulled myself together and told myself even if you didnt want to be my friend anymore, you were always mine. And you were okay, even if you wouldnt tell me I told Mycroft if you were ever hurt properly I’d be first port of call. I got a confirmation and nothing after cos he knew that knowledge of you was only needed in severity. I got angry of course. Cos you left in the first place. I was moving across a couple of streets to have my own space. You moved across a sea.” Her eyes filled with tears but never brimmed over.

“I hurt you that bad?”

She was about to laugh when she realised he was serious and so instead she nodded. “Yes but not as bad as tonight. You’re the person I care for most in the world. You’re my best friend even if you don’t want it sometimes. You scared the others but you scared me so much. It’s the first time I genuinely thought, 'He may not come back. He may actually die tonight.’”

“I’m sorry, Watson.” He said wiping his tears then said in confused, “Wait. I’m your best friend?”

Now she laughed and the tears brinking fell, “Yes, Sherlock, you’re my very best friend. Wouldnt swap you for a world of friends.”

“I knew you were mine but didn't know I was yours.” He says quietly, “Alfredo’s my friend. But I don’t know what I’d have done if it had been you.”

Joan decides to do something mad and holds his hand, surprisingly he grips it back but not enough for pain, “And vice versa. Now you see why I’m more upset that you weren’t there, rather than you falling off the wagon?”

There is a very long pause and he nods, giving her hand a squeeze.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for failing me and you and I’m sorry for not telling you I was okay.” She nods in a forgiving way.

“Making the great Sherlock Holmes acknowledge and regret his mistakes. I must be a miracle worker.” She says in nothing but a kind tone. He nods and she reacknowledges how tired he is. He cant lift himself, he can talk to the high hills but then again cant he always when he’s on a roll or pretending he’s not tired. His eyes are drooping though.  
She lifts him up and wraps his arms round her neck again.

“Where we off?”

“You need a bath. Then sleep. Detox can start in the morning.”

“Wondering if the sober companion would ever make an appearance. I’d never die, only good people die. And plus, no sleep for the wicked.”

“You’re not wicked. Which is worrying cos you’re better than you think. Which means you’d never see it coming.” He starts laughing at the last sentence and despite herself she cracks a smile.

She dressed him down to boxers and runs the bath, helping him in and he sits, half asleep, being washed from a fully clothed Joan at the side of the bath. She washes the unclothed parts going nowhere near the boxers. She then washes his hair and gets him to move from the first time he sat in the bath to put his hand firmly over his eyes. Once washed she guides him to his bedroom and puts his bathrobe on. Its rarely worn, thin, dark blue and has black patches of ink, but it’ll do.  
She asks if he can take of his wet underwear and with a few movements he shuffles them. She gets him to bed gives him a vague tuck in then closes his very dark curtains and sits in a large chair in the corner of the room.

“I won’t go, Watson. I won’t sneak out tonight.”

“Morning, Sherlock, its morning. But I know.. I just like seeing you safe.”

And so each of them fall asleep. Hours later Joan gets shook awake by a clothed Sherlock.

“It’s 3pm. I woke up and got dressed and Mrs Hudson’s downstairs. She made us breakfast. I’m going up to the roof. Mrs Hudson told me that I should tell you considering you're sat in my room.” He just looks sad.

“How long?”

“Dunno. Couple of days.”

A pause is set between them.

“Thank you.”   
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” 

Both are said at the same time and he doesn’t smile but he nods, standing back to full height. She stands up too.

“You looked like you did when I said I was moving.” He shrugs to that. She looks sadly at him, full of worry but he does nothing. She won’t cry this time. She doesn’t feel the need. She kisses him, half on his cheek, half on his lip and utters, “You really are my best friend and I love you. Please don’t leave again.”

She doesnt mention what way she loves him or any of the sort and he doesn’t ask he simply replies in quiet almost breath whisper, “Okay, I won’t.”

Its 3 days later when they speak a full sentence besides “food” “thanks” “in, now” to each other.

She wants to say I told you don’t be too hard on yourself. Instead she says, “Your dad has heard about it somehow. He called. He’s on his way.”

He makes no inclination he’s heard her but she knows he has. Then ten minutes later, “Stop that. I can hear you thinking over there. You’ve been a great sober companion and just as good a friend. My failure is not your fault.”

“What if your father disagrees? Uses his power to keep me away.”

“It didnt stop you when you no longer needed to be hired as my sober companion. But no, Watson, my father has money but no actual power for something like that. He can only keep you away if subconciously you want to be.”

“Good. Well then, if he’s here to tell us off and put us on track. I’m fine.” She stands and to his surprise walks forward and places Clyde on his lap. “I may not be the best company for you at the moment. I seem to be a reminder. But Clyde should be. He’s been missing you. Caught the poor thing trying and failing to get up the stairs. When I can be more of a help than a hindrance, stay inside the house please.”

A day later, another 2 days before his father arrives she hears a sound from upstairs and he makes his way down into the kitchen where she is with Clyde in hand. She hands him a cup of tea and sits by him and they watch Clyde manoeuvre around the table. As she moves away he looks at the poem she gave him for his 1 year sober anniversary and suddenly he thinks he can do it again.   
He looks at her coming back and setting up a track for Clyde and for the first time in days he genuinely smiles.

 

The forest is lovely, dark and deep  
But there are promises to keep  
And miles to go before I sleep  
And miles to go before I sleep


End file.
